


Bravest of the Brave

by Corinne K (Corinne_K)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam (Voltron) Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Curtis, Bittersweet, Love Triangles, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 12:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19251193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corinne_K/pseuds/Corinne%20K
Summary: A soldier in the desert searching for survivors.A dying pilot waiting for a miracle.AU set during the Galra invasion of Earth, in which Curtis rescues Adam in the desert and brings him back to safety.





	1. Chapter 1

Mission log: day #8

Squad decimated. Will proceed on my own.

Primary goal: reach Galaxy Garrison

Secondary: search and rescue

Curtis tucks the communicator in his leg pouch. Battery won’t last long. Logs keep his mind focused, but the awareness of their futility strikes him hard. The dusty desert cave gives him shelter for the night, but those pesky robotic sentries can strike at any moment. He forfeits sleep in favour of surviving.

On the day of the invasion, their commander’s last action was to deploy his squad to assist the Galaxy Garrison. They had been training in a neighbouring facility, but vehicles were destroyed in the first wave of attacks, so when they set off, 20 men with weapons and minimal provisions, they still had several days of trekking in the desert ahead of them.Now, it’s only Curtis, his blade and three sips worth of water - no rations, no ammunition.

He resumes his journey at dawn. There’s a town half a day away. From there, it’s another few days’ walk to the Garrison. He’s not sure what help he can be at this point, but he keeps going.

It’s close to noon when he spots several things all at once:

A crashed Garrison fighter

A white parachute half buried in the sand

A fading trail leading to an elevation

A robotic sentry approaching the scene

If the death of his comrades had any meaning in this nightmare of a world, it’s the little knowledge they allowed them to gather on how the machines work.

He sets out on a run, skirting around the place where the remnants of the fighter lie, climbing onto the ridge leading to the rock formation adjacent to the parachute. He slides his blade off its sheath and prepares to strike. He can hear the processing sounds made by the sentry. He finds a good vantage point, plants his foot, propels himself in the air, aims for the back of the head where the processing units are, digs his blade, bears down with his feet on the thing’s shoulders, brings it down, uses the stock of his rifle to finish the job. The lights go out, the thing emits a sound like static and collapses.

One more down. How many are there anyway?

_More than I can break._

He wipes sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, then looks around. Sure enough, the trail in the sand leads to a small dent in the rock, not deep enough to be called a cave. He walks there, dragging his feet. There’s a lump on the floor, unmoving. As he draws near he realises it’s definitely human. Bloodied, broken, but human. If the fighter fell during the invasion, could the pilot still live?

He approaches with caution. It can be a trap.

The pilot rests on his side, one leg tucked closer to his stomach - possibly his last movement before going unconscious.

He places two fingers over the carotid.

“He’s alive.”

There’s a joy in that discovery, so much so that he declares it aloud. Suddenly his life acquires meaning and purpose. Even if his skill set - mostly melee fighting, not a bad sniper- is useless against a fleet of futuristic aliens, he can do something: bring back a pilot, who will hopefully recover and join the fight in the skies.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

First, he must figure out a way to carry the man. He figures, if he managed to crawl this far, a spinal injury is unlikely, so he doesn’t need a stretcher.

An idea forms in his head. He remembers his mother and his younger siblings, the colourful piece of cloth, endlessly torn and mended, that carried all 8 of them into toddlerhood.

He walks to the parachute and takes out his knife. The blade is damaged from piercing too many metal sentries, but it still makes a cleaner cut than most knives. He tears several straps and then a larger piece. The man is almost the same build as himself, only slightly thinner. He must do something about the legs, he can’t just leave them dangling, or they will make him trip.

The work takes a few hours. He decides to stay the night under the rock. He gives whatever first aid he can to the pilot. With the smaller straps of canvas he cut, he makes impromptu dressing for cuts and burns. He pours small gurgles of water inside his mouth. The second time he does it, the man’s tongue seems to follow the bottle.

“Well hey there,” he says. “Name is Curtis.Nice to make your acquaintance.”

The man doesn’t react, but later that night he hears a soft whimper. He drapes some of the canvas over the man, and the moonlight plays a trick on his eyes, because he can swear he can see a slit of brown between the pilot’s lashes.

At dawn he sets up the contraption he built the day before. He pushes the man against the rock, making him more or less upright, squats, then pulls the straps and ties them over his chest and shoulders. He bunches the legs around his waist, over a sort of sling that ties behind his neck.

It’s hell to move like this, but he gets going. If sentries appear he will have to quickly let go of the man and fight. He can only hope for a few hours of peace. The town looms in the distance. As he comes closer, surveillance will grow tighter. He’ll have to skirt it within a safe zone and watch out for survivors or anything he might be able to use. He dreams of an abandoned car with a full tank, but that’s too much to ask for.

His first fight happens near the ruins of a school. Luckily there’s an overturned structure, a bus stop shelter, that offers a bit of protection. He lays the pilot down and charges. Here the sentries come in pairs and he leaves the fight with a sprained ankle and a scrape of energy blaster on his thigh. He needs to keep moving. He lugs the pilot away from the urban area, into a man-made grove. The trees are dying from the breakdown of the irrigation system, but it still provides some cover.

It’s in that grove that he finally finds other humans.

 

After ten nights in the desert, he finally sleeps. He doesn’t know if he can trust these fellows who call themselves the resistance, but he has no choice. He’s at the end of the rope and the pilot won’t survive another day in the wild.

When he wakes up, there’s a glass of water on the floor next to his head. A few meters away, the pilot also rests, immobile.

“Soldier”

A woman stands between him and the tunnel they came through the night before. She wears gum boots and rags of what were once street clothes.

Curtis props himself up to sitting. His thigh has been patched up through a tear in his pants. His ankle is swollen but he can move it.

“Your partner there needs to see a doctor. We can arrange a rendezvous with a group that can get you into the Garrison in three days time.”

“Thanks...”

“Here. Eat.”

The rebels are tired and desperate, but they provide what little comfort can be found in this dire situation.

Three days later, he straps the pilot to his back again and follows after Jen and Yang through the maze of tunnels. They reach a crossroads where a rover is waiting. The people inside are wearing suits that resemble the pilot’s. They introduce themselves as Ryan and Nadia, and set off through the dark tunnels until they finally reach the Garrison.

There’s a medical team waiting for them, that attends to the pilot as soon as the rover comes to a stop.

Curtis takes in the modern facility, the hustle bustle. The black boy, Ryan, possibly a good few years younger than himself, lays a hand on his shoulder.

“Officer Wright taught us everything we know about flying. We thought he was gone... Thank you.”

Other people gather around them, now that the doctors have disappeared through doors and corridors.

“Come on, you must be starving.” A female officer says. She’s higher ranking, judging by the ribbons on her shoulders, with expressive green eyes peeking behind rectangular lenses. “I’m Veronica, by the way.”

“Curtis”, he offers.

He limps behind her and she offers him an arm. “Change of plans. Let’s get you on a wheelchair first.”

 

After his treatment and recovery, he decides to go back to the rebel camp. He is entrusted with food and medical supplies. His foot is still taped, but it’s starting to grow stronger. He will soon be able to help in rescue missions. There’s been rumours of alien concentration camps. He intends to save as many people as he can.

Before he leaves, Veronica takes him to see Adam. The pilot is still in a coma, but doctors are hopeful. They have developed healing pods based on alien technology, and have been using them to reverse the trauma suffered due to the crash and subsequent conditions. The equipment is still untested, though, so they limit usage to short, interspersed sessions.

“Fly and kick their asses,” he says to the glass wall.

Veronica smiles. “Thank you. Adam is well loved and a very skilled pilot. He’s also a good friend of mine. Take care Curtis. I’ll see you around.”

He leans in and their shoulders touch.

“See you around.”

 

* * *

 

 

“They put up a plaque with your name, you know? You look nice in the picture, better than you look now… but don’t worry, I already told them to take it down.”

Adam’s hand is cold when Shiro takes it. He’s been in a coma for several months when the paladins reach the Garrison. Of all the scenarios he rolled in his head during his time in space, seeing Adam like this was never a plausible outcome. Adam was the healthy one of the pair - when they were one - with his avocados and kombuchas, early bedtimes and sunny attitude. He was supposed to outlive him, not the other way around.

“Shiro, may I?”

“Allura-”

The princess lets herself in and stands by his side, close to the hospital bed.

“-I don’t want to bother you, but if you could try to sense… anything… he’s been like this for a while…”

Allura’ alchemical powers are still a mystery to him, but if anything, he knows they are real and strong. He felt it first hand. She approaches and holds her hands over Adam’s still form. The familiar halo of energy spreads out and intensifies for a moment, before vanishing.

“He needs a healing pod. I will speak with the doctors immediately.”

“Thank you.” Shiro’s hand, that had retreated, drifts back to Adam’s.

“You never told us,” she comments, a bit mischievous.

“There was nothing to tell… We broke up before the Kerberos mission.”

“Oh! I’m sorry…”

He shakes his head, smiles at her. “It doesn’t matter. All I want now is to stop Sendak and save Earth, so that Adam and everyone else can have a good life.”

“You mean, you won’t…?”

“Try to get back together? I don’t know. Maybe, if he wants to… but I’d rather think that he’ll find someone better than me.”

Allura doesn’t say a word. She holds him. She’s always been gentle with him, even when she put on a stricter persona towards the others. They both lost much to the Galra, they are both survivors.

She leaves and he sits back, intent on staying in vigil for a while longer. But then it starts. In the beginning it’s just a comment or two about the weather. Then it snowballs and he’s throwing a monologue at his comatose ex-lover. It’s cathartic like nothing has been in a while. He cries, stands up and walks around. He tells Adam how painful the metal stump in his shoulder is, how afraid he is to fail, how much he misses the early days when their love was simple. He leaves after sundown and vows to return on the next day. Only he doesn’t. The doctors, supervised by Allura, are putting Adam in the pod. Shiro doesn’t want to cause trouble. He has meetings in the days to come, and when he doesn’t, he hits the gym or the training room.

A few days later, it is decided that he is to lead a reconnaissance mission to a nearby Galra facility. Rebels will guide them in. The team is composed of the paladins minus Allura, the MFE pilots, Veronica and himself. They ride in the dead of night to an abandoned housing estate overlooking the site. They let themselves into the designated apartment and stand guard. It’s close to midnight when they hear a rap on the door. Galra sentries don’t knock, but they still get in position to strike. Keith opens the door. Standing on the other side are three people: a built up black woman, a short and lean man and another one, tall and dark-skinned, with clear blue eyes. Their battle-weathered appearance is reminiscent of Blade of Marmora soldiers.They advance into the room, cautious.

“Greetings. I’m Jen,” says the woman. “These are Yang and Curtis. We’re here to assist you.”

In the following hours they examine maps and blue prints and decide on teams and strategies. Lance and Veronica are scouting, the MFEs and remaining paladins are forming two sections, each with one of the rebels, and he is covering the rear, together with _blue eyes_. It’s a fortunate assignment. He needs to take his mind off Adam - Adam who didn’t want him, Adam who’s unconscious in the hospital, who will wake up and want to/not want to talk to him. For the sake of the mission, _blue eyes_ provides a welcome distraction. One he can switch off when necessary. One that doesn’t hurt.

They take cover behind a van - the metal hull scorched and rusted. They follow the others’ movements through his comm pad. They are to intercept and shoot down anything that can pose a threat to the team within their perimeter of action. They sit there for a while, rifles in hand. Then, something attracts his attention - just a small detail, a battered insignia, crossed blades and a crown, on the man’s breast pocket.

“You’re a Gurkha?”

The man is solemn, but a smile blossoms on his lips. He says “Yes, sir,” and that does all sorts of things to Shiro’s composure. “My squad was on a special training at the Three Canyons base when the Galra invaded. Our commander deployed us to assist the Garrison. I’m the only one who made it.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“What about you? I heard that you’ve been through hell and back.”

“You can say that,” he chuckles. “We all have.”

“Thank you for fighting for Earth… out there.” He looks up to the sky with a kind of mystified look.

“Why did you stay with the rebels? You’re an officer. I’m sure the Garrison would take you.”

It’s the man’s time to chuckle. “Not sure my skill set can be of any use.”

“We’ll see that.”

As a matter of fact, they end up finding out too soon, as a pack of sentries head their way, along with a swarm of drones. Shiro shoots the drones down, but the sentries are too many and approaching too fast. They have to split. Shiro takes on a row of them as he rolls across the street, and Curtis climbs onto the van, shoots until the angle permits it, then reaches for his belt, takes out a small curved blade and flies onto one sentry’s shoulders, stabs the metal skull with the knife and, as the robot is about to collapse, leaps onto the next one and delivers the same treatment. A third sentry is about to aim for him, but Shiro shoots it down.

They scoot back together after they make sure the machines are all disabled.

“That was rather wild, sergeant.”

“Went without ammo in the desert. This was the back up plan.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” he asks, a little tendril of excitement curling around his stomach.

 

The team returns with the intel and they split ways with the rebels. He exchanges a glance with Curtis as they part. _Really nice eyes_ , he thinks, and smiles. The man flashes him a shy little grin in return, and walks away.

Back at the Garrison, after debrief, when all are ready to hit their quarters for a little shut-eye, Allura comes up to him. He looks at her face and knows what she’s searching him for. He just hopes it’s not bad news.

She stops a foot from him, takes his hand-

“He’s awake.”


	2. Chapter 2

The afterlife is a glass bowl.

It comes with fancy lighting and pointy-eared chicks. Two are currently looking at him through the glass and talking to each other, but he can’t hear them.

Then suddenly the glass in the glass bowl retracts and the conversation becomes audible. He can’t recognise the language, but it has a flowery quality to it. It’s not unpleasant. One of them says the word Shiro, but it can mean anything, in this language of heaven, or the underworld.

With a knowing frown, the white-haired one leaves, and the other, a comely blonde, presses a button that releases the straps that had been binding him (which he didn’t notice until now). She leans closer and asks-

“Can you hear me?”

Her English is accented but clear. He blinks in what he hopes comes across as a yes. His body feels too heavy and his mouth too dry.

“My name is Romelle. I’m Altean. Are you able to talk?”

He wills himself to cough and move his tongue. There’s a trace of something metallic in his mouth. It tastes weird.

“Y-yes,” he manages.

“You have survived a major accident, but this healing pod has advanced your recovery significantly. I ask you to please be patient, though, because it will still take some time.”

“How can you speak English?”

A fear lodges itself deep in his stomach. If this is not the afterlife, who are these aliens? Is he a prisoner?

“We’ve been traveling with Earth folk for a while.”

“Where are we?”

“On Earth, at your home base.”

Ok. It looks different. This room has possibly been fully revamped. He can’t even figure out at which sector of the Garrison they are.

“The nurses will take you to a room now. You will find it more familiar,” she smiles.

Seeing the human faces tranquillises him. They are nurses and staff he’s seen around at the base. They help him to scootonto a hospital bed and tuck some bedding around his legs. He feels a stabbing pain between his ribs, soreness on most of his muscles and burning on large patches of skin. Oh. No. His hands come to his face, feeling up his jaw. It’s irrational, he should be thankful he’s alive, but-

“Nurse...” they have reached one of the private rooms that only commanders and up used to get, and the nurse is arranging a jug and a cup on a movable table, “think you could get me a mirror?”

When he's handed the small round glass, he holds it up in front of his face and sighs. It’s not too bad. There’s a patch above his left temple and the hair has been buzzed around it. He contemplates getting an undercut and sweeping his bangs to that side.

The nurse wraps a bracelet around his wrist and tells him if he needs something he can just flail his arm. He chuckles at the little gimmick. What’s wrong with a button?

So this is it, he thinks. Whatever the others are doing to fight the invaders, he’ll just have to sit one out for now. The TV is off - probably the bastards blew up the satellites. What can he do? Sleep, look at the ceiling, daydream, wank...? That’ll get him a nurse by his bedside pronto. Yeah, scratch that.

He’s been there a while doing nothing when he hears some noise outside his door. It opens just a notch and he hears a woman’s voice say “he’s awake”. She steps in. It’s the white haired alien from earlier. She holds the door open and someone else walks in.

* * *

 

Adam looks much better when Shiro finally gets to see him again, resting on his hospital bed. Once peace is restored, healing pods can really be the next big thing in beauty treatments, because everyone comes out of them glowing. Adam always had a beautiful copper skin, but _wow_. He’s aged a bit since Shiro last saw him and, well, there’s a very obvious burn above his temple, but he can’t help but to let himself be hit with all the wonder and elation of this impossible moment.

He realises he should say something, when Adam goes from startled to incredulous, to what seems like slightly disappointed.

“Adam, you’re ok!”

“Takashi?”

He takes a few steps forward to stand closer to the bed and well within sight. “Yes, it’s me! I know I don’t quite look the same...”

He’s giggling like a school boy, and possibly blushing. Allura clears her throat softly.

“This is Princess Allura of Altea, our friend and ally. She tells me you’re going to be out of here soon on.”

“Hi...” he sounds confused and a bit tired, “... your h-highness?”

Allura gives him a look, mirth and mischief in her narrowed eyes. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. Take care.”

As she makes her way out, Shiro tries - he really tries - to simplify things in his head, to not think of all the things that happened in between last being with Adam on good terms - no break ups, no drama, no near-death experiences - and, well... now.

“Come here,” Adam whispers, in that rich tone he's always loved.

He goes, he takes the few last steps towards the bed. Adam holds out his hand. There’s still an IV stuck in his vein. Shiro takes care not to displace it as he interlaces their fingers.

“What happened to you Takashi? What did they do...?” Adam’s voice is broken and raw but he doesn’t cry. Adam Wright does not cry. Takashi Shirogane does.

“Oh baby... Oh no...” Adam pulls him down to his chest, and Shiro tries his best to brace his with on an arm and a stump, so as not to put pressure on the other man’s body. Adam runs a hand through his hair and pulls him closer. He nuzzles the hospital scrubs over Adam’s chest and lets that impossible heartbeat calm him down. It's been such a long time...

* * *

 

It used to be a trivial thing, waking up next to Takashi. They had lived together for over a year when Kerberos brought them to breaking point. It’s close to dawn, judging by the faint light that filters through the blinds. There’s so much to talk about, but Takashi sleeps, so Adam closes his eyes again and tries to doze off.

When he wakes up again, it’s to the sound of a soft conversation. Takashi has tidied himself up and is standing by the window facing the alien princess. When they notice he’s awake, Takashi flashes him a smile. He looks like a completely different person, standing there against the morning light, with happiness painted on his face.

“Adam, good morning! It seems I’ll keep you company today…” The princess lays a hand on his shoulder and smiles too. Adam wonders if there could be something there… Takashi was always so sure of his preference, but things have changed... He really has no right, but a little seed of jealousy lodges itself in his heart.

“I’m getting rid of this-“ he raises the metallic stump, “and getting a brand new arm that Sam and Allura made for me.”

Ok, now he really is jealous. Or, perhaps, this is the first step, and soon he’ll fully realise how little he’s ever done for Takashi.

They end up spending most of the morning together. Takashi goes away for a bit and returns with a small pile of books he’s dug out of what remains of the library. They browse and reminisce about their academy days. It’s nostalgic and makes him set aside the earlier thoughts.

A nurse comes mid morning with a drip, and later a doctor, who tells Takashi that they’ll perform the surgery to remove the Galra shoulder prothesis and install the new one at 1400. There’s also something they’re calling the activation, but he doesn’t understand much of that part of the conversation. Something about a power source and quintessence. Takashi’s good mood starts to fade into a mild apprehension. 

After they take Takashi away in the afternoon, it’s just him and the small pile of books. He picks up an old manual of physics. During the academy, Adam and Takashi had initially bonded over their shared geekiness. They were good students, competitive but not unhealthily so. They used to spend their afternoons side by side in a quiet corner of the library, reading and making notes. Takashi made the best summaries and Adam ended up copying his methods, with a nice return in terms of grades.

It was one evening, after a long session in the library, that Takashi just up and kissed him. He had been acting funny for a few days, stuttering and chewing mints and making too many off base lunch plans… so when it happened they didn’t immediately acknowledge it, but just kept talking about some assignment they were working on. It was only a few weeks later that things were called by names. They held hands behind the gym and Takashi said -“I’d really like to be your boyfriend.”

He’s been dozing for a while, dowsed in happy memories, when he's awaken by a scream. He realises in horror that it’s Takashi’s voice, and immediately starts to wave his wrist like a madman. The nurse comes and tries to calm him down but he’s not having it. Suddenly, the princess, the other aliens parading around the Garrison, all the staff… all seem suspicious. He starts to trash and punch. He’s going to get out of bed and see for himself what the fuck is going on, and he almost succeeds in doing just that when a numbness takes over and everything goes blank.

* * *

 

Shiro wakes up before dawn. His new arm rests next to him on the bed. He opens his hand, then makes a fist to see if it responds. It still feels smooth, no crazy jolts of energy down his spine. He can feel the jewel from Allura’s tiara, irradiating a gentle but strong energy that spreads to his whole body. _Damn_ , he feels great!

He was told to stay put until the doctors’ rounds later in the morning, but he still wants to go through the intel they gathered at the Galra facility once again. From what Pidge and the others were able to hack out of consoles and drones, the Galra seem to be doing some kind of mining, using human slaves. But now that’s he’s had the chance to sleep on it, the whole thing doesn’t add up: either Sendak is drilling to the Earth’s core or there’s some use to the minerals found in this area that humans never knew of. Either way, he wants to make sure nothing has escaped them, so he stumbles out of bed, still a bit groggy, and heads back to his quarters.

There, he sees a figure standing guard.

“Keith?”

The boy gestures him to be quiet and follow. They turn left at the end of the corridor and enter the junior officers’ aisle, where the paladins, except the princess, are accommodated. They enter what he supposes is Keith’s room. The lights are low and there’s a small gathering going on - the paladins, Coran, Romelle, and ‘blue eyes’.

“Shiro, come here, take a sit, we need to show you something.”

He pulls a stool and squeezes between Hunk and Lance, in the cozy circle. There’s a tablet turned face up on top of a box serving as a makeshift table. Keith taps into it and a diagram appears. It’s different from the one he saw the previous night.

“Keith, what is this?”

“This is the _actual_ blueprint of the Galra facility. It was bugging me since yesterday - this whole void in the middle-“ he swipes back to the image they had seen during their debriefing, “it couldn’t be just ventilation, mines don’t have such large accesses…”

“So, what is it?” He’s starting to feel jittery. Keith had the same instinct he did, but Sanda and the higher ups had been quick to rule out any intervention other than continuing with the logistic support to the rebels’ rescue operations.

“It can only be a zaiforge cannon.”

There’s a moment of silence, after Allura pronounces those words, where everyone lets the information sink in.

“Wait a minute, Keith, how did you get this information?” His gaze darts to ‘blue eyes’. If he’s here he must have something to do with this.

“I went in again, Shiro. Curtis and I mixed with the prisoners and sneaked in. We went all the way to the core and saw the thing with our own eyes. It’s real, Shiro, and we must do something about it.”

* * *

 

As the day unfolds and he is dragged into meeting after meeting, Curtis thinks that it would have been wiser to make himself scarce after escorting Keith back to the Garrison. At some point, they get him dressed in a random grey uniform and his measurements are taken, supposedly for a space suit. The Admiral frowns upon his presence in one of the high level meetings, and Shiro throws him under, asking him to tell the commanders all he and Keith saw at the Galra facility. The argument that ensues is violent. There are fists slammed on tables and raised voices. A plan is devised - the paladins are to “call the lions” (whatever that means) and attack the bases where the Galra are building the cannons, together with some sophisticated fighter crafts piloted by cadets. Based on his military experience, this is _not_ how you run an army.

In the afternoon, when everyone goes out to do something or other, he bumps into Veronica, the friendly officer from the last time he was here. They sit down for a coffee, even though she seems to have a huge lot on her plate, working on the navigation systems of a new space craft they are hoping to launch.

“So I see you’ve finally joined our side,” she says, eyeing his uniform.

“Don’t ask me how that happened...”

She laughs and pats his forearm. “Come on, it’s not so bad. We’ve got cute girls.”

He splutters a bit at that, and wishes he weren’t so transparent for once. “… or boys?” she adds, and now he’s definitely blushing.

“I don’t think there’s time for that right now…”

“Time for what?” he hears from behind.

_Oh no_.

He turns his neck in what feels like slow motion and there he is, silver hair and pirate scar, hover-hand resting on his thigh, smiling.

“I was just telling Curtis that we aren’t always this chaotic. He should stick around and get to know our fun side.”

The man laughs, a light, heartwarming sound, and takes a seat next to him.

They chat a bit about the mission ahead and how things work in space, and how there’s an actual probability that Curtis might end up there himself - which doesn’t quite thrill him, but he’ll help in what he can.

When Veronica stands up to leave, he remembers he’s been wanting to ask her something, He hesitates, he's not sure it’s appropriate - for how easy-going he seems, it’s clear from the uniform that this guy is higher ranked - but he ventures, anyway-

“Veronica, I’ve been wondering… is _he_ doing ok?”

The question hits some kind of wrong cord and her face pales, she looks between him and Shiro, as though waiting for some cue.

“You mean Adam?” she finally asks.

“Yes, I meant to ask earlier…” He fears something went wrong and the pilot didn’t make it.

Shiro does look surprised, but there’s no backlash as yet.

“You know Adam?”

“Shiro, Curtis was the one who brought Adam here… from the desert.”

There’s a heavy silence. He dares a glance at the man’s eyes and finds them glazed and fixed on his. The intensity is hard to withstand but he doesn’t look away. It pays off, because in a second the smile returns, even warmer, like a sunny summer’s day.

“Come with me. I was just about to pay him a visit.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert for very brief synthesis of S7E11-12. This chapter follows those episodes with modifications to fit the events of this fic.  
> Enjoy!

It turns out Adam is… a bit of a typhoon. Not in a loud or rowdy way, but in the ability to deliver extensive devastation in a single blow.

Shiro is currently standing still and quiet, while the other man explains to him why it was inconsiderate and insensitive to not visit earlier, given that his screams during the botched arm attachment procedure were audible throughout the whole Garrison.

“I’m sorry, Adam, I didn’t think…”

Adam glares at him, making a point out of that statement and Shiro leaves the end of the sentence drop. Adam turns his face away.

Then, almost shyly, Shiro takes a step closer and produces a pair of glasses from his pocket.

“I went to your locker and found the spare…”

That seems to placate the beast.

“Thanks.”

Adam puts on the dark-framed glasses and looks out the window, slightly squinting and adjusting the hinges.

“The other pair was better, but at least the world is not a Monet anymore!”

And with that, the fight is over.

That’s when Adam’s eyes drift towards the door. Curtis had remained there, under some perceived sense of invisibility, that was just lifted, with the correction of Adam’s miopia.

“And who is that?”

“This is Curtis,” Shiro supplies. “He found you in the desert… and saved you.”

“Just wanted to greet you. We had an eventful journey,” he finally says.

“Your voice is familiar.” Adam ponders, and looks straight into Curtis’ eyes, then adds “Thank you.”

He replies with a short salute and Adam smiles. Shiro does too, but the brilliance in his eyes, in his upturned mouth, tell a different story. At that moment, Curtis experiences something that he can only define as an epiphany, because it all suddenly makes sense - Veronica’s awkwardness, the way Adam addresses Shiro as Takashi, the overblown reaction to the lack of visits, Shiro’s transformation into a quiet, tender man inside this room. It’s clear as the light of day: Adam and Shiro love each other.

He doesn’t stay with them long after that discovery. A few minutes of polite conversation, then a quick excuse, and he’s out the door and following an irrational urge to get out and away. Eventually, he makes it to the roof. It’s a rare thing - to make himself exposed to the sky if not for missions, and even then it’s mostly at night. But now it’s the middle of the afternoon and the sun is shining mercilessly. He can feel more than see the dome of energy that surrounds them - a “particle” barrier, they call it, but particles of what matter? He’s not a scientist, just a soldier. Seeing his comrades fall, one by one, under this unforgiving sun, he almost lost his fighting spirit. Finding the pilot in the desert, barely alive, but a glimmer of hope for humanity, refuelled it. And now he’s here, part of an enterprise he barely understands, and he got to witness the rekindling of a bond that could have been lost, a bond... that he saved.

He tries to process the conundrum of emotions that the scene brought to live. There’s an elation, something similar to what he felt when he found Adam in the desert. There’s warmth, wholesome and comforting in the pit of his stomach. That, he feels, is primarily for Shiro, who lost so much, who went through so much, and finally gets to have something for himself. Then, there’s a mix of hope and fear, both stemming from the situation they’re in - about to jump into a battle of uncertain, if not impossible, odds. Finally, he thinks, there’s that very fighting spirit that got him through the desert, and the very quality that makes him himself. It fills him with an overwhelming will to push forward and defend a future where Shiro and Adam can be happy. He ignores the little nagging melancholy that makes its way into the mix.

* * *

 

It’s hard to see them go. It’s especially hard to stay behind. The paladins set off by air and land into a mission so risky that some would call suicidal. But still, he trusts their ability - he sent them on it. If failure is the outcome, it will be on him.

He walks into mission control and takes centre stage. It’s been a regular occurrence since their return, being listened to and relied on. It’s a constant pressure but no, not a burden. He refuses to see it as a burden.

This time, though, attention in the room shifts momentarily to the man beside him.

“Commander Wright,” Iverson calls, “good to have you back.”

At the back of the room, in the shadow, arms crossed over his chest, stands Curtis. His blue eyes shine through the dark. He smiles when their eyes meet. Shiro feels an urge to smile back. It’s probably too quick and too small - there’s too much to deal with right now - but he does, right before turning back and fixing his eyes on the panel of split screens. He can’t really pin it, but there’s a shift inside him that makes him feel that something crucial is about to happen.

And then everything goes horribly wrong. The lions are ambushed, they form Voltron, only to be hit head on by the zaiforge cannons. Sendak steals the lions and kidnaps the paladins. Shiro watches helpless. All options fall down. The only thing left is the Atlas.

Again, it’s his call. To leave the Garrison unprotected and channel all energy to a ship that might not fly. He makes that call. Sanda is not around, seniority ceased to matter.The people in mission control end up with him on the bridge: Iverson, Coran, Adam and Curtis. Veronica arrives almost an hour later, shrugging into a clean uniform jacket. Sam takes over the engine room.

There are setbacks, they land hard after the first attempt, but Coran saves the day and they get the ship up in the air at last. They join the battle and Shiro’s mind slides into that place where there’s no room for anything other than the mission, a place where a new presence - a feminine and nurturing, yet also powerful and demanding entity - begins to take shape.

The most extraordinary things happen in the course of the battle. The paladins’ telepathic connection with the lions reaches new highs, the tide turns, there’s a chance, but Sendak still manages to launch the cannons. The lions use plates to block them temporarily, but the beams are too strong. If they don’t do anything, the lions will be destroyed, and then Earth itself.

He can’t leave Voltron to shoulder this war alone. He brainstorms with Sam. Hacking Sendak’s ship might stop the cannons. They have to try it.

“Then that’s what we’ll do."

And there’s only one person who can do it.

"I’m going in. Coran, Adam is the best pilot I know, please support him. Adam, the ship is yours. Get the Atlas to the impact site. We need to be prepared for every outcome.”

“No.”

Shiro looks back, dumbfounded. Adam stands, unrelenting. “Send someone else. You’re the Captain, you must stay in the ship.”

_No, not this, not again._

“Adam…”

“I’ll go,” says a now familiar voice. Curtis stands up from the weapons console he’s been manning. “Everyone here is needed in the Atlas except me.”

“This is your first time in space. You won’t make it to the ship on a jetpack alone and we can’t use a pod to bring you there in these conditions. Even if you make it, you don’t know Galra tech, you don’t know the architecture, it will take you ten times longer than it would take _me_.”

“Commanders, Sargent,” Iverson’s voice booms, patience running thin, “You both go, cover each other’s backs.”

There’s a moment of silence. Adam looks on, helpless, defeated.

“Adam, look…” they’re running out of time, but he refuses to leave Adam without a word, _not again_ , “it will be ok. I _will_ be back…”

Adam’s hands turn to fists and Adam moves towards Curtis. “Bring him back,” he pleads.

Curtis nods and Shiro all but pushes him out the door. There is no time. They have to get in gear and get going. This is bigger than all of them, than their bonds and their feelings. But somewhere, in a deep corner of his soul, something is telling him, like a nail digging in a wound, that he will never cease to leave Adam behind.

* * *

 

“Hold my hand, relax, don’t flail, or it will get us both tumbling out of control.”

“Copy.”

He double checks his helmet, his suit, his knife. Shiro places his palm on the panel and the door opens before them. Outside, open space. Shiro holds out his hand and he clasps it. At the sign, they both fire their jet packs and jump.

Havoc surrounds them, stray beams criss cross the sky, threatening to catch them any time, the zaiforge cannons shoot relentlessly, a fire so monstrous that it should truly not exist. But then, Earth comes into his field of vision. Through the orange visor, he can see how Shiro’s face softens and his eyes sparkle. The hold on his hand tightens. It’s strange and beautiful and he doesn’t really know what to make of it.

They touch upon a rock and Shiro uses it to propel them towards the Galra ship. As soon as they break in, the time for contemplation is gone. The corridors are long and dark, lit by a dizzying purple glow. The first enemies they encounter are robotic sentries like the ones they fought on Earth. They efficiently wipe out the first group and proceed down the halls. Shiro seems to know the ship like the palm of his hand, which really makes him wonder how long did the man spend inside one. Guarding the crystal are actual Galra soldiers, that make for a more challenging battle. They clear a path and he tells Shiro to go ahead while he deals with the remaining opponents.

Minutes later there’s a strange sound and then a prolonged scream. He takes out his knife and delivers a blow to the last soldier’s head with the pommel. He enters the room and the first thing he sees is the gigantic crystal, glowing purple, and then Shiro’s prosthetic arm firmly planted on the surface of the stone. Shiro himself is a few steps away, weathering the impact.

He can hear Commander Holt’s transmissions through his helmet. He understands that there’s some kind of weird data processing passing through Shiro’s brain. He looks as though he’s in a trance. Curtis wants to support him but there’s nothing he can do now. Even placing a hand on the man’s shoulder might disturb whatever they’re doing. So he stays put. He watches the crystal glow and buzz and spark and finally explode. The blast shoots them across the room. He tries to stand and run to Shiro but a shard has hit his leg. He stumbles, then crawls. Shiro is unconscious, but still breathing. He’s trying to pull him up when a fresh pack of sentries march upon them.

* * *

 

His head feels heavy, there’s a confusion of data running in the back of his mind - binary code, symbols, schemes, blueprints. He has the zaiforge cannons imprinted in his head now, and everything is buzzing. His eyes open and slowly find focus. He’s lying on the floor, there are crystal shards everywhere. Someone is fighting - two figures, one much bigger than the other. A Galra, by the stature, high ranking by attire, and Curtis, agile even with a clear limp on his right leg, clasping his dagger and giving the Galra a run for the money. But he can’t win, the enemy is too strong and soon there will be more. Sendak might be here any minute. He needs to divert the Galra’s attention to himself. And so he stands. It takes all he’s got, but he gets on his feet and charges. His prosthetic hits the alien and the purple face turns towards Shiro.

“Go!” He yells at Curtis.

He engages the Galra and gains a slight advantage, but as he is about to defend a blow, a body gets between him and the Galra. Curtis meets his eyes and he’s never seen such raw energy coming out of the man.

“No! You go! I told you, you are needed more than me!”

Curtis presses forward, tries to slash at the soldier, but gets tossed a few meters away. He gets on his feet and charges again. He’s running and yelling “Go!”

God, why is it so hard? He looks back once, but he keeps going. Curtis is holding his own but his legs are faltering. Shiroforces himself to run, desperately, towards the nearest exit. He can tell the ship is out of control. The crystal was destroyed so they must be out of power. He needs to get out and assess the situation. He gets onto the hull, runs to the nose. They’re going to crash on Earth. There’s nothing he can do. He must jump. But then-

Sendak.

He can’t let him go again. Sendak is too resilient and his mind is too monstrous. He engages. They exchange blows. If only his new arm had some of the abilities of the Galra prothesis, but Allura didn’t want to build a weapon. As it is, he doesn’t stand a chance to win one on one, but he can make sure Sendak does not escape. He looks around. They’re free falling. The crash is imminent. He just needs to keep Sendak entertained until the ship meets the surface and the whole thing goes out in a blaze, them included.

_I’m sorry Curtis… I’m sorry I brought you here and couldn’t keep you safe. I’m sorry Adam… Keith… I’m sorry I won’t see you again. I hope you live good lives. Please be happy._

He charges again towards the massive Galra, eyes closed. The ship plummets, he can feel the heat of the atmosphere on his skin. At least he won’t die in space.

They crash, but it’s not the impact he expected. Something smoothed their crash. He rolls onto the ground but he’s still alive. Sendak stands. He can see the towering figure through the dust that surrounds them. Sendak sees him.

“Victory or death!”

He raises the huge metallic arm, but as it goes up, it flops to the ground, a blade stuck on the power source at his shoulder. Shiro props himself up to look around. Curtis is on the ground a few meters away, bloodied and broken, but still alive. Sendak spits, then pulls out a blaster. Shiro needs to get on his feet, he manages to get on one knee. Sendak takes aim.

And the black lion roars behind him. Keith jumps out, slashes Sendak in two.

Crazy fucking kid.

Hero.

Rockstar.

“Shiro!”

He can only smile as Keith runs towards him. A few meters away, he sees Curtis come to his feet, bracing his hands on his knees and heaving hard. The lions float above their heads.

_Thank you Keith, thank you Curtis. I’m so happy to see you again._

The Atlas is here too, if a bit further.

_Adam… I’m back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> Just a small note: While I didn't want to steal Keith's spotlight, I didn't think episode 12 did Shiro justice - what with only lasting long enough to disable one cannon, and going KO in the end, when Sendak was such an important opponent in his character arc. So, this wasn't really a fix it, but using the conditionings of canon, I tried to modify things just slightly and give meaning to Shiro's actions. Hope it makes sense somehow!!  
> Update: just decided on the rating for the remainder of the fic. It’s going to be a light M ;)  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly introspective, bittersweet stuff, so don't expect fireworks this time.  
> Also, remember when I said this would be a "light" M? Well, lol... I'm not caving and rating it E ... yet... but please be warned it might not be sooo light.  
> TW for friendly use of homophobic slur.  
> I plan to wrap this up next chapter. Hope you've liked it so far and thank you for your trust and continued support!

“April 12, 1961.”

“First human to orbit Earth - Yuri Gagarin on Votok 1. Adam, that’s primary school level.”

“Ok, fine. February 14, 2000.”

Shiro laughs. “You love that one, don’t you?”

“Your answer?”

“First spacecraft to land on an asteroid: NEAR... on Eros.”

Adam grins at the outright sultry way the other boy pronounces the name of the asteroid. “Now, now, you did that on purpose.”

“Did what?” Oh, the look of feigned innocence on those big grey eyes, the flutter of long dark lashes, matching dark tousled hair...

“Orbit, Takashi,” he chastises. “NEAR just orbited Eros in 2000. The landing was in 2001.”

“Ops.”

“Well, one more point for me...”

With that said, Adam pulls another figurine from his shelf - an Atlantis model, collectors’ edition - and flies it in slow motion over their heads. Takashi looks up and follows the trajectory with his eyes. He’s buck naked, sprawled on his side on the bottom bunk. Adam still has his sweat pants on. He flies the shuttle lower now, the nose starts tipping upwards, until it lands smoothly on Takashi’s thigh, next to the Apollo and Columbia already there - both intentional mistakes, Adam is certain. He knows his boyfriend is a show-off, and it makes him mad sometimes, but he must admit that in this context, it’s a hell of a turn on.

He realises he’s been staring for too long when the other boy starts to react right before his eyes. Takashi is not large by any standard - Asian genes and all - not that it matters... but Adam has always liked to see the transformation, and to know that it’s his doing.

“Are you conceding?”

“I guess... but those pants have to go.”

“Gladly.”

* * *

 

It’s a quiet night at the Garrison. A feeling of unease permeates the temporary peace. Earlier that day, flags flew at half mast and the Voltron lions towered under the heavy skies, like sphinxes of empires of old. In a hasty series of promotions, both Adam and Takashi have been appointed Commanders, but the honour - or the burden - of delivering the speech fell on the eternal golden boy. Takashi stood there, tall and proud, speaking of loss and hope, playing by the charter of those who lied and slandered and defiled his name.

Barely had the ceremony come to a close, Commander Holt called them both into a conference room. Inside was all of the surviving top brass, Sanda’s empty chair a testament to the power void. Adam wondered what cogs were already turning in the dark, who would play who, and who would rise in the end. Oblivious to it all, or perhaps so higher above that it didn’t bother him anymore, Takashi waited in silence. Once the whole room was quiet, Holt rolled out the plans for three more MFE squads, an array of land and water vehicles with combat features, and particle barrier technology for at least five other bases. Besides Arizona, none of the bases had such technology at the time of the invasion, so what remained of them and their personnel was little more than rubble and a few surviving officers. There was reconstruction and restaffing to be done, materials to be sourced in and out of planet. Adam and Takashi were to be directly involved, Keith too, when he recovered. As the meeting came to an end, the figures in the dimly lit room started to pour out, seraphic and commanding, their cold blank faces a staple of Adam’s life for as long as he can remember.

It’s been a couple of weeks since the battle against Sendak and that strange machine they call robeast. While the paladins are still in the hospital, all other new arrivals have been assigned whatever empty rooms there were in the quarters. Adam’s, miraculously, was left untouched in his absence, so that’s where he’s headed after the long tiring day.

Takashi follows him in silence as they walk across the dark courtyard - lighting has either been destroyed or switched off for power saving purposes. He freezes when Takashi’s hand wraps around his bicep. They come to a complete stop. Adam takes a deep breath. Until now, the subject of their relationship status has remained untouched. For all purposes, they are still broken up.

“Adam…” Takashi whispers, his breath dangerously close to the skin behind his ear. He massages the muscle through the uniform sleeve and stalls, like he’s debating something. Adam waits. Then, that warm breath comes again, setting off goosebumps all the way to his shoulder blades. But the words never follow. The other hand - the metallic one - closes around his waist, and teeth graze his earlobe. So Takashi still remembers… the things that drive him crazy.

They move like that, attached at the hip, and make their way to Adam’s room. They leave it in darkness, safe for a square of moonlight projected through the window. They were never together in this exact place. When they were cadets they had shared a bunk with two others, and when they finally became officials, they requested for family quarters, which were in another housing unit within the compound. Even so, the scene feels oddly familiar.

In a distant past, before things started to fall apart, they had been happy - and, he must admit, rather horny most of the time. Takashi had been healthy and they’d been so eager to discover everything - the skies, the stars, love and pleasure and the intricacies of another human being. They had been close to the point of almost melting into one. Back in those days, they had agreed to switch. It seemed fair, they were both curious and, once they’d tried it one time each way, both seemed content with the arrangement.

Now, though, as Takashi lays a hand atop his head and pushes him down onto his knees, Adam wonders if the other man even remembers such thing. He kneels willingly, though, and needs no further prompting to start undoing Takashi’s belt, then his fly, and finally getting rid of all the layers of fabric standing in the way. Takashi removes Adam's glasses, carefully, with both hands, and places them on a nearby table. Adam dives in, eager to rediscover everything. He basks in the taste and odour, in the slight gag and the firm grip at the back of his head, holding him in place.

“Addy, you’re so good…”

The old pet name makes his chest ache. He looks up and takes in this new Takashi. Even with his naked myopic eyes he can see the scars - slashes, scrapes and burns - the subtle paling of the skin from years of sun deprivation, the bulkier frame made of intense training and endless battles. Takashi has always been attractive, but now he looks so much more mature and rugged that it makes Adam’s skin burn.

“Oh Addy… oh fuck…”

The swearing is new too. It makes Adam pick up the pace, high on attraction and submission.

Then, with a yank, Takashi pulls him up into a series of searing kisses, before he pushes him face first against the mattress and pins him there, under the weight of his metallic forearm.

This is nothing like their old love. This is more like a fire, irresistible and all consuming. It drives him through the deed, makes him want every single touch Takashi gives him, desperately, with abandon.

He lies awake in bed long after Takashi has cleaned them up and nodded off. He nurses his messy thoughts and his aching body and wonders about tomorrow. Will Takashi just up and leave while he’s still asleep? Will this happen again? What does this make them? He realises, in a moment of sleepless clarity, that he doesn’t want to have that talk, that he doesn’t trust himself to not hurt Takashi and make everything collapse. As long as they’re still close, the label doesn’t matter. As long as he can seduce Takashi, he doesn’t need to keep him for himself. And when Takashi leaves, he doesn’t need to feel the agonising pain of his absence.

When he wakes up, Takashi is sitting by his side, tapping on his tablet, a hint of bare hip visible beneath the light bedsheet.

Adam looks up, still hazy, and Takashi smiles. There’s a dreamy quality to it, with all the bright sun light and the comforting smells of their little cocoon.

“Morning….”

“Hey,” Takashi replies.

If it weren’t for the shoulder and the hair, the illusion could endure for just a little longer. He could tell himself that Kerberos never happened, that Takashi was never gone, that he never pushed Takashi out of his life. But reality is far too obvious, and more so when Takashi is opening his mouth to say something. Adam remembers his sleepless thought from just a couple of hours ago and he doesn’t let him.

“Any important news?”

Takashi looks taken aback. “Na… Just keeping up with the repairs. The MFEs are at 60% but the Atlas will take a while… Look, Adam…”

“What about the paladins?”

“Keith’s still unconscious. I want to drop by later. I’m worried.”

“You should. They need their leader…”

“I’m not that anymore… their leader I mean. I’m just…”

He looks troubled and Adam doesn’t like it. He pulls himself up and kisses Takashi’s cheek. The man chuckles, but returns the favour, drawing back with a little smile on his lips and a soft caress in Adam’s temple.

“Addy…”

“Shh…”

“Please…”

This is it. This is when it all falls down. No. With a nimble move, he loops an arm around Takashi’s neck and brings him down over his chest, mouths just inches apart.

“Takashi, stop talking.”

The man sighs, probably deciding to give up for now. A pyrrhic victory, but a victory nevertheless. Takashi’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth springs into action. Further south, a promise of something more comes to live.

* * *

 

 

It’s been a strange morning. It’s 10 am and Shiro is on the roof smoking a cigarette. How long has it been since he’s smoked a cigarette? The last time was probably before his diagnosis, years ago, and then again, he’d never been much of a smoker. He isn’t planning on picking it up now of all times, but somehow it just feels like a simple way out of his head.

It’s one of those rare days when the sky is overcast and there’s a small percentage of humidity in the air, so his skin doesn’t immediately go dry when he steps out of the climatized space. Rain would be nice, for a change, he thinks, eyes on the clouds.

As he’s standing there, lazily pulling and expelling the smoke, he feels another poke. It’s a crude way of putting it, but that’s what comes to mind when he tries to describe the little pulses of consciousness he’s been getting as of late. He recognises them. They’re from her - the Atlas. They are laced with a sense of power he can only compare to what he used to feel in Black, but amplified and of a different essence. The Atlas is distinctly feminine. He was unsurprised to see her in full mecha form, when footage of the battle came out. Her appearance is reminiscent of an ancient mother goddess, with her voluptuous hourglass form - a symbol of fertility and life. Being her pilot is more than just standing in the bridge and giving orders. It’s connecting with that same side of himself - one that is nurturing and gentle… and feminine.

Last night stood at the antipodes of all that. He never thought he had it in him to claim Adam the way he did. Granted, the man seemed to enjoy it. A lot. Case in point, first thing he did this morning was to ask for a second round. But still… He needs to take a step back and think. It’s not good to let himself act on impulse… or is it?

When he heads back in, it’s straight into another round of meetings. It lasts through lunch time and someone brings in a tray with sandwiches that taste surprisingly nice. Maybe one day he’ll have time to pass by the kitchen and teach the cooks how to make onigiri. He’s lost in these idle thoughts when he receives a message from Krolia. Keith has awaken. He wants to head to the hospital right away, but he ends up pulled in all directions and a few hours go by before he can untangle himself from all demands.

When he finally heads to the hospital, it’s well into the afternoon. He considers going straight to Keith, but there is no reason to overlook everyone else, so he starts with Allura. They have some things to discuss anyway -the ships’ repairs and the forensics done so far on the fragments of the robeast. She’s in good spirits and participates in the discussion, along with Romelle and Coran, who’ve been watching over her.

The next door along the hall is Lance. He can hear the racket from well outside the room. The Mcclains have the sun in their DNA and it’s an overwhelming joy to be among them. He finds himself with a bowl of ropa vieja on rice and a fork in his hand and a kids named Sylvio sitting on his lap. Lance himself is recovering well and asks some questions about everything but, overall, seems happy to bask in all the attention for now.

Pidge is doing well too. When her mother leaves the room to pick up more water, Pidge confides that her mom is mad at her for escaping into outer space, so Shiro tries his best to reassure her that it will be fine.

Hunk is a bit more battered but his parents are there, as is Shay and another Balmeran, which is an interesting development.

Finally, he makes his way to Keith’s room. The black lion bore the brunt of the explosion and Keith suffered a great deal of trauma, so even though he’s awake, he’s still very weak. Krolia and Kolivan fill up the space with some updates on the Blades, but neither of the Galra are exactly talkative, so for a while he just stays there, lets Keith see him, tells him about the new defence project that he’s supposed to help with. That makes the boy perk up a bit, and he leaves on that note, promising to come by tomorrow again.

When he leaves Keith’s room, it’s almost sundown. The corridor is washed in golden sunlight, the terracotta desert framed in rectangular glass panels. There’s one more patient he’d like to see. It’s a simple thought, to just drop by and say thanks. The man was by his side in some pretty trying times and rose up to the occasion quite formidably. Plain appreciation of valuable efforts. There’s nothing else to it.

_Right?_

So why is he standing by the door, grinning stupidly, stomach aflutter?

He gets a grip on himself and knocks on the door.

“Yes?” asks a deep composed voice, muffled by the wood barrier.

“May I?” Shiro asks as he pokes his head inside the room.

Curtis is not in bed, but sitting on an armchair by the window. He seems about to dig in to a tray of hospital food.

“Please!” he says, cheerful.

“Sorry if I’m interrupting your dinner.”

“No, no,” he waves, “it can wait.”

“Please eat, I just came over to say hi.”

He hesitates, but hunger probably wins, so he uncovers a bowl of salad and starts picking at the leaves.  
In less than five minutes, the obligatory conversation is done with. Shiro has asked Curtis how his recovery is going, to which Curtis said that he’s almost as good as new, safe for some ligament issues on his right leg. He congratulated Shiro on his promotion and thanked him for the visit. With that, Shiro could excuse himself and go get some rest, dinner and maybe see what Adam is up to. He ends up staying a little longer, though, idly watching Curtis as he shovels rice into his mouth.

“Tasty?”

There’s a curt laugh, followed by more shovelling. “Let’s say I was a bit hungry.”

“What’s that meat? Looks like it was chewed by a Weblum…”

“It’s not meat. What’s a Weblum?”

“Very big space worm. Are you vegetarian?”

“When I can. I come from a Hindu family, so I got used to skipping the meat.”

“Oh, that’s interesting, so I take it they’re in Nepal…”

“Oh… No, not really. I was born in Singapore. My grandfather was part of a special regiment stationed there.”

“So you’re from a military family?”

“My parents didn’t have anything to do with the military. My father was in finance and my mother stayed at home...”

“You had a stay at home mom? That’s really cool!”

Curtis chuckles a bit in amusement. “I don’t know if she would share your opinion...” He looks at the window, a frown marring the sharp outline of his aquiline nose. “I was a problem child, gave her plenty of trouble…”

“A problem child, you?”

“You don’t believe it?”

“Not a bit.”

“It’s true though! I didn’t have any other qualities apart from being nimble and good at throwing punches, so instead of a gangster, I became a soldier.”

Shiro couldn’t help the double take - Curtis, a would-be gangster?

“Ok, why is it so hard to believe?” the man in question asks, taken aback.

Shiro laughs. “You’re calm… you do your thing and you do it well and you don’t make a fuzz. I guess that just inspires trust, naturally…”

Curtis goes wide-eyed for a moment, looking adoringly silly in his loose hospital gown.

“Thank you.”

Their eyes meet and something passes between them. Shiro averts first.

“So you’ve never been to Nepal?”

“I have. A few times for training and once for an earthquake rescue mission. I guess one day I’d like to go and see if I still have any relatives there…”

Shiro thinks it’s not his place to ask, but the fact that Curtis has been here all alone tells him that flying in family members was not an option.

“I hope they made it…” Curtis says, soberly, without hint of resentment. After a short hesitation he adds, “what about yours?”

His family is not around either. Not now, not to see him off to Kerberos, not in a very long time. But still he wonders if he’ll get to see them again some day.

“Yeah, I hope they made it too.”

* * *

 

The following days go by in a similar fashion. Work and meetings and connecting with the Atlas, visiting the hospital and spending time with Adam. Shiro cruises through this strange, yet predictable life, conscious that it will not last long.

When he sees Adam during the day, it’s to talk work or some passing triviality. For all his aloofness, he knows Adam has been high strung since he’s been assigned commanding functions. Hell, Shiro himself is getting high strung from too much time spent in dark rooms with stiff old people.

There’s talk of sending a team to Lages to kickstart the implementation of hybrid Altean-Earthen technology. The Atlantic base was the least hit and has the best conditions to kickstart the project. He has a feeling that Adam is starting to take particular interest in that matter, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

When the sun goes down, though, it’s a different story. After that first night, Adam started to leave the door to his room unlocked. On one occasion, when Shiro sneaks in, the room is still empty. He doesn’t want to be creepy, but he finds himself perusing the space. Besides books and technological stuff of practical use, he can still find, here and there, remnants of their life together. On a shelf there’s a game of jenga they used to play. The Star Wars poster, ripped at the corners from several layers of blue tack, was most certainly lifted from their old apartment. There’s even a Japanese tea pot that he’d gotten for cheap at a yard sale. And then there’s Adam’s collection of early days space exploration models... those evoke a whole set of memories, of a different kind… When Adam arrives, Shiro almost starts the conversation they’ve been postponing, but things get heated quickly and the moment fades between his fingers.

On the fifth - or maybe sixth - day of this routine, he manages to go for a walk around the flea market that’s been sprouting near the base, and gets something for everyone. He saves the bottle of Marlborough Pinot Noir for his evening with Adam, but he brings the other stuff to the hospital - video games for Pidge, a cool pair of gloves for Keith, some alien cooking utensils for Hunk, a necklace for Allura, a ukulele for Lance (the siblings tease him about it, but Shiro still thinks the boy has an artistic side). Finally, he brings a pile of translated Japanese comics to Curtis, that serve as an excuse for more idle talk about their respective cultures. They end up picking up one volume each and when Shiro looks up from the comic, a couple of chapters in, he finds Curtis asleep, head leaning sideways on the pillow. He tiptoes out after adjusting the recline of the bed and pulling up the sheets. When he’s closing the door, someone intercepts him in the hall

“Does your other husband know you’re here?”

He squeals lamely and turns around.

“Veronica?”

This is potentially bad. Ronnie and Addy used to be thick as thieves back in the day. She quirks her brow and folds her arms. He sighs.

“Coffee, on me?”

They sit with their mugs in hand, behind the ruins of what used to be the sports complex.

“So, let me get this straight… you’re having sex with Addy, but you’re not really together-together...” she stops to check in and he gives her a reluctant nod “… but in the meantime you have a puppy love thing going on with Curtis...”

“It’s not puppy love, it’s just a... tender friendship.”

“A tender friendship?” She parrots, and takes a puff of smoke, then hands him back the cigarette they’ve been sharing. He brings a hand to cover his face.

“Sounds that bad?”

“Of course it does Takashi, it sounds like you’re playing them both!”

“It wasn’t my intention,” he sighs. “I’ve been wanting to talk to Adam, but the opportunity keeps slipping away…”

“Right. I can understand that, but tell me, Takashi, if and when you get to have that talk, what do you intend to say?”

“I…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to lose him, but I don’t really know...“ verbalising it is not easy. He’s wanted - loved - Adam for so long that he can’t remember existing in the same time and space without being together. The short time between their break up and the departure for Kerberos had been too busy and once he was out there, everything seemed unreal - his life, the pain, the memories. Coming back to a name plate on a wall didn’t make things easier, so he just ended up letting things roll…

“I guess I fucked up.”

Veronica sighs.

“Hey... look, yeah, you did. But don’t be too hard on yourself. Shit happens...”

She squeezes his good shoulder and he leans in to her touch.

“Just think of a way to fix it, you know, whenever you can…”

He nods, letting his head drop further between his shoulders.

“Now, come on, give your favourite fag hag a hug.”

Leave it to Ronnie to make him laugh after a conversation like this. He looks up and flicks her forehead.

“You’re not a fag hag, you’re a dyke.”

“Ouch! What was that for? And where’s my hug?”

He smudges the cigarette butt on the wall and they finally embrace. She pets his hair and rocks them slowly.

“You’re a good person Takashi. It’s ok to be less than perfect sometimes.”

* * *

 

There’s a certain strain of top brass at the Garrison that rarely show their faces to common mortals. They’re the ones filtering information and calling the shots. From their deep dark caves they have the power to tell you what really happened to your partner on a faraway moon - or let you believe, for years, that it was a bout of tremors that led to their demise. They have the power to tell you know when news has finally arrived that such partner is after all, alive - or keep you in the dark. They have the power to send you to fight aliens on state of the art crafts - or send you off to die. Adam begins to ask himself if this kind of shadow leadership should be given free rein on Earth.

With the Atlas’s upcoming mission that is exactly what’s set to happen. The Altean princess and her advisor, as well as Sam Holt and his family will be gone. Takashi will be gone. A whole array of powerful new technology will be under development. If it falls in the wrong hands, Earth might not be quite the same when they return. No, he needs to do something, even if that means losing the one thing he’s been desperate to preserve… even if it means to see Takashi go once again.

One night, when he’s en route from his office to his quarters and sees light in one of the simulators, he thinks it’s probably James or Ryan overworking themselves. But when he goes out of his way to give them a good old scolding, instead of eager MFE pilots, he sees Curtis, crashing halfway through one of the intermediate programs and almost certainly cursing in some unknown language.

“Better luck next time?”

“Commander Wright!” he jumps, “Oh! Hi!”

Making someone with a skin as dark as Curtis appear flustered is certainly a feat that he’ll add to his resumé.

“Hey, don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” he smirks, teasing, but the other man still looks deflated.

“I’m really no good at this.”

“You don’t have to be. Why are you here, anyway?”

When Curtis rubs his neck, it makes him look so painfully boyish, so different from the hardened soldier that fights aliens at knife point.

“What good is an astronaut that can’t fly?”

“I thought Ronnie was training you for her team.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough.”

There are many words left out of that simple statement. Maybe Curtis doubts his worth, maybe he fears the dangers ahead, or maybe he is doing this because he wants to protect something - or someone. Adam is not blind, and the whole thing should make him angry, but instead, it fills him with an unexplainable calm.

“When we were cadets,” he says, seeking full attention from those attractive blue eyes, “Takashi and I were assigned as each other’s flight partners. We learned together and clocked in many hours in the same cockpit. But as we got older it became clear that we wanted different things. I was happy with perfecting my skills and passing them on to the new generations of space explorers. Takashi wanted to go out there and see the universe with his own eyes. In a fundamental way, and despite all that happened, we are still the same. I don’t know what you want of life, but as long as you want to learn how to fly, you can count on me.”

Curtis gasps and looks incredulous and excited. Adam can’t help but smiling.

“So, wanna run this bad boy one more time before we adjourn?”

* * *

 

Adam takes up teaching Curtis as a little pet project. Takashi is curious to know why he’s coming back late, but he doesn’t spill the beans. Their nights together have quieted slightly, and sometimes they don’t do much more than watching movies and chatting. Somehow, it feels better, like it could remain this way, like his old and his new life are finally blending together.

But the illusion doesn’t last. One morning, he receives the envelope he’s been expecting, containing a full rundown of the Lages project, and his official appointment as its coordinator. A conversation with Takashi is finally in order.

The opportunity presents itself one afternoon when both their schedules are clear. It’s still weird to just waltz into the senior Commander’s office that Takashi has been using. Adam has simply kept his own in the academy.Takashi is reclined on one of the couches, working on his tablet rather than the big computer on the desk.

“Still resisting the chair of power?”

Takashi looks up from his work and smirks.

“Wanna lock the door?”

Tempting, but probably not a good idea, considering it would change the mood and then he wouldn’t dare to deliver the blow.

“Can we talk?”

“Oh…” Takashi sounds like he’s been expecting this, and doesn’t ask for details. Instead, he digs a half full pack of cigarettes from under the cushion and stands up.

“Not going to scold me?”

“I figured by the taste in your mouth,” he shakes his head, “just don’t make it a habit.”

“I won’t. The Atlas is a non-smoking flight…”

Adam ribs him and they head to the roof, mood still light. He has a feeling Takashi has been spending time here by himself. That suspicion is corroborated when the man pulls a small cup from behind a vase, containing three drowned cigarette butts.

Adam waits for the cigarette to be lit, for the first puff of smoke to exit those lips, and then says,

“Takashi, I’m going to run new MFE program.”

The other man looks taken aback.

“The new MFE program will start immediately.”

“I’m aware.”

“The Atlas should fly with the best on board.”

“You and I both know you already have the best of the best.”

“But I won’t have you.”

He sounds hurt, disappointed.

“The new airborne vehicles are to be developed and tested in the Atlantic base. They have no idea how to handle this technology. They got hit and blacked out. We mounted a counter attack.”

“It doesn’t have to be you.”

“What if I want it to be me?”

If the light hits it just at the right angle, Takashi’s hair looks like it’s made of stardust. Takashi looks up at the spectral silhouette of the rising moon and wavers ever so slightly. When he looks back, his eyes are sad and fragile, his voice small but - _still_ \- hopeful.

“Will you wait for me?”

Adam looks at those eyes, almond shaped, beautiful and full of kindness. Can he really break Takashi’s heart once more? Can he not? His mind is set. He says,

“No.”

Takashi lets it sink in, in silence. He gazes at the moon and smokes his cigarette. It’s a single tear at first, rolling down a razor sharp jaw, but it soon multiplies into a torrent.

Adam lets him. This time, he doesn’t pull him in, no matter how much he wants to do just that. He watches the love of his live break apart right before his eyes. Hands hanging on his sides, cigarette forgotten on the concrete floor.

“I’m not the right man for you,” he states, matter-of-factly. 

Takashi uses his flesh and blood hand to wipe some tears and a bit of snot, while, somehow, still looking dignified.

“I know, Adam,” he says, “but I’ve always wanted you, nevertheless.”

Adam Wright doesn’t cry, but in that instant, as his composure finally crumbles and he draws Takashi into his arms, he does. His eyes lose focus and all he can do is grab hold of Takashi’s face and crush their lips together. This is all wrong, this was supposed to be a clean cut, but he can’t pull it off, because this time, it’s for good. Takashi kisses back. The echoes of their passionate nights drive them on autopilot and their hands grab, pull, clasp. He’s breathless and dizzy and his better judgement tells him this is really a bad course of action - so he puts an end to it, he pushes Takashi’s chest away with his two hands.

“Addy…”

Takashi brings his hands to Adam’s face and wipes his tears, smooths the skin around his eyes, kisses his forehead.

“So this is it?”

“It is.”

“Can we be friends?”

“Let’s work together for now and catch up when you get back…”

“Will you stay with the Garrison after the MFE’s are up and running?”

“I haven’t thought so far ahead!” he lies, with a little forced smile.

“Will we be ok?”

“We will.”

Takashi hugs him again, this time with full body strength. Adam feels the power of the prosthetic arm around his waist, and the energy emanating from it, that feels so much like an extension of Takashi’s own life force. He takes short shuddering breaths until his chest begins to rise and fall more calmly.

When they part, the sun is tucked behind the mountains far away across the desert plains. Takashi leaves first. Adam picks up the half smoked cigarette and with a few strong pulls he manages to revive it. He watches the moon and the stars grow brighter in the night sky as he makes their final kiss last just a little longer.

* * *

 

When he looks inside the packet, there is only one stick left.

Maybe one day he will miss these quiet moments on the roof, just him and the stars - but then again, maybe he won’t.

“Be with the ones you love,” his earlier command echoes in his head. He pulls out the lighter and cups the flame with his hand. This small crutch of a pleasure is one of the things he’ll gladly let go. Other things are harder to lose, but that’s been the story of his life.

“Captain?”

The tall figure standing in the light of the access door slowly makes his way through the dark maze of architectural barriers and leftover debris like he knows it by heart.

“Hey Curtis, how’s it going?”

“Hunky dory,” he shrugs.

Shiro laughs at the anachronistic phrase. “Star gazing?”

“Yeah, trying to make it sink in...”

“Excited or scared?”

Curtis ponders for moment, then shrugs again, “Both, I guess.”

They are standing side by side and a wave of something warm takes him by surprise. Doubt and bravery, the mix of opposites that he’s come to identify with this peculiar man.

“Curtis, I don’t think I ever thanked you properly... for bringing Adam back. I... it meant a lot.”

The man’s face is lit by a soft smile, and his gaze dips to the floor.

“I’m happy for you.”

While not absolutely necessary, he feels like he should clear the misunderstanding. Maybe confiding in someone will do him good, after all.

“We’re not together anymore, Adam and I.”

“Oh,” he frowns, “so that’s why you’re here... I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. It was amicable and we’ll remain friends, I hope.”

He’s bringing his hand up to take another smoke when another intercepts it. The dark fingers contrast with his and the almost touch makes his skin tingle.

“May I?”

“Sure,” he hands over the cigarette and observes enthralled as the other man brings it to his lips and locks it there for a second, scrunching his eyebrows. On the exhale he hands the cigarette back.

Did Curtis ever hear of indirect kisses? The thought makes Shiro blush. He shoves the cigarette in his mouth, trying to dampen the thought. His palate goes after any traces of flavour. It registers almost nothing - maybe coffee, but very faint.

“Captain, whatever happens from now on, please lean on me. In battle or... otherwise. To the best of my ability, I’ll be there for you.”

“Curtis?”

How much does this man know of Japanese culture? Does he even realise that what he just said amounts to a marriage proposal? As if on cue, Curtis splutters,

“Of course- I mean - that goes without saying - that’s why I’m going on the mission! Apologies for the presumption!”

And Shiro laughs, light and happy against the night sky.

“It’s ok. I appreciate it. Please take care of me.”

Curtis smiles and says-

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author does not endorse smoking as a coping mechanism. Please take care of yourselves and excuse the artistic license ;)


	5. Chapter 5

It’s a little known fact that, a good handful of generations ago, Adam’s ancestors travelled to the Americas from a foggy rock in the Atlantic. From that bloodline, only his sun kissed skin remains, as the family name has been lost in decades of marriages and ramifications.

Standing on that very same rock brings a sort of second-hand nostalgia. Little over a year has passed since Adam left the desert for this new scenery. Lages is now a state of the art Coalition base, complete with MFE hangars, intergalactic communications, a particle barrier and teludav operability.

The surrounding towns were left mostly unscathed by the Galra, who probably didn’t find them of interest, after they wiped out the former base.

The nearest of them is but a cluster of old buildings, spreading around a half moon beach. It’s a picturesque thing made up of bell towers and red roofs.

There are cows on the surrounding hills, and seagulls overhead. On good days, the view from Adam’s office is a variation of green and blue, sometimes peppered with white clouds. More often than not, though, fog shrouds the sky in grey, heavy clouds darken the waters, and the sea roars restless against the cliffs.

Adam doesn’t mind it. He likes to sit in his office and hear the thunder rumbling. He works and listens to old songs, sips on dark shots of espresso and makes plans.

A while ago, Dos Santos, the insufferable nerd the Garrison dispatched to assist him, brought him on a two-day trip to the mainland. Unlike the island, the country suffered quite a lot during the invasion. The strategic position at the tip the Eurasian continent attracted attention from the invaders, and that brought along massive damage to urban areas.

Still, and although the trip was much too short, Adam got back to the island feeling a bit smitten about the place. It must appeal to Adam’s more contemplative side, he decides. Since then, he’s been idly browsing property listings and wondering what to do with his life, now that he’s successfully pried the new MFEs from the Garrison geezers’ wrinkly fingers.

A rap on the door brings him out of his reverie, as his assistant pokes his head in.

“Commander, Sir, Coalition ship BM-07 Thace requesting permission to land.”

“Granted subject to accreditation procedures. Thank you, Lieutenant Singh.”

He switches to his tablet and heads out the door held open by the other officer. As expected, the Blade of Marmora are the first to arrive.

Adam forfeits his post in the control room and heads out to watch the ship’s approach with his own eyes. The storm is still raging on the north east of the island. He predicts the trajectory based on the weather and looks up, just as the dark hull of Keith’s new ship breaches the thick blanket of rain clouds.

It is an elegantly designed craft, worlds away from the brutalist Galra cruisers. It was built in Altea, by a recently assembled task force of engineers from all over the universe. As it approaches, the electric blue lines along the black wings become visible, as well as the sickle shaped character that identifies the former rebel group. There are onlookers in the adjacent hills. It’s probably as exciting for them as it is for the staff at the base, and perhaps a bit frightening. The first large scale galactic exercise to be staged on location is soon to begin.

But not for a few more days. For now, preparations are still underway and most participants are yet to arrive. After disembarkation and admin stuff is dealt with, Adam brings the crew of the BM-07 Thace into town. There’s a wine bar he’s been patronising for a few months. The owner is a friendly chap and the wine selection is good. Besides Keith there’s two other young Galra, an Olkari engineer and an Altean girl. They don’t seem too keen on experimenting, so he orders them some local soda juice. He talks Keith into drinking with him, though. He picks the smoothest red on the list, which is no easy feat, considering the locals’ taste for the rough stuff. He orders some cheese and grilled sausage to soak up the punch.

Everyone tries the diplomatic chat for a while, but at some point the other officers he brought along get lost in lateral talk and the Marmora crew switch to Galra.

“How have you been, Adam?”

Keith has scooted over a bit and is now elbow to elbow with Adam on the wooden bench. There’s a kindness in his features that looks so foreign on the boy - man, he is now a full grown man, a captain of his own ship. Adam feels old.

“Busy, mostly, but well.”

“Truly?”

Eye contact seems to be another skill that Keith has mastered as of late. The violet irises pin him and demand something more, a firmer reassurance, perhaps.

“Keith…”

“I’m sorry. I’m… this is stronger than what I’m used to…”

The candid admission makes Adam chuckle. “And here I was marvelling at how much of a grown up you’ve become.”

“Oh, shut up, old man.”

“Ouch!” He puts his hands up in surrender and Keith mock punches his bicep. It’s a nice familiarity, after such a long drought. They were never as close as Keith and Takashi, or, rather, Adam was never close with young Keith at all, but only indirectly privy to his secrets, through Takashi's bed time indiscretions. Somehow, though, that second-hand idea of Keith doesn't seem to fit anymore. No, the man who sits at his side right now is an altogether different person - someone he would actually like to get to know.

“What about you, Keith? Ever miss good old Earth?”

“You know… no, not really… I miss some people, I try to see them when I can, but I don’t feel any pull to return… Is that fucked up?”

“Language!”

“Oh, come on, Adam…”

He laughs. Since the beginning of their _tète a tète_ , Keith has finished his first serving and Adam has promptly provided a refill. As a result, there’s a cute rosy tint gracing his cheeks. 

“Speaking of which, how’s Takashi doing these days?” Maybe Adam is not unaffected by the alcohol either, because the question slips out of his mouth without him having the chance to censor it.

“You guys haven’t…?" The words die in Keith’s mouth.

The answer is no, they haven’t. They’ve written missives to each other - formal military messages, conveyed through the Garrison’s official servers, but he hasn’t seen or heard Takashi since their break up.

“He’s alright,” Keith sighs. “We were all together at the memorial for Allura, in Altea, a while ago... There’s some… stuff he’s working through, obviously. We all are… but you know him, he’s all put together and all. When the lions left us he was bending over backwards to comfort us, when I know he’s felt the blow as much as we did… you know..." Keith seems to hesitate, like he's about to stay something he shouldn't. He comes closer so as to whisper near Adam's temple. "Shiro... he never actually severed his bond with Black, nor did the lion...”

“Huh?”

Lions, Voltron, alchemy, those were all outlandish concepts to him. He could tell by Keith’s tone that this was somehow significant, but he couldn’t quite grasp the implications.

“After Allura merged Shiro’s soul with his clone, everyone assumed his bond with the black lion was gone… but it wasn’t. He just, basically, handed the lion to me… So, until the Atlas chose him, he was ready to withdraw from battle, to stay in the sidelines... I don’t know what to make of it, really.”

“That he’s had enough of war?”

“Maybe...”

“How did you figure that out?... that he was still connected to the lion?”

“When the lions left Altea, for a few seconds, as they were flying away, we all could see through our lions’ eyes. That’s something that’s happened before... but this time, for a fraction of a second, after Black’s eyes went dark, I could see the back of my own head against the night sky. Shiro was standing right behind me. I was seeing through his eyes.”

“That’s... just another piece of weirdness in your extraordinary life, kiddo. I wouldn’t overthink it if I were you. Just... take care of him the best you can, will you?”

Keith’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed.

When did this kid become so human?

“I will, Adam. Don’t worry.”

 

* * *

 

“Veronica, weather on location.”

“Surface wind direction 240 degrees, west-southwesterly winds, wind speed 15 knots, gusting to 25 knots, visibility 600m, fog and drizzle, air temperature 17 degree Celsius; dew point 16 degree Celsius, Sir.”

“Cold and soggy. Just our luck. Matt, engines?”

“All systems are go.”

“Curtis, inform Lages we are taking off.”

“On it, Sir.”

“Atlas, let’s go for a ride.”

This time around, their trip is more like a little hop. They take off smoothly and climb up to the Thermosphere, then travel towards the location of the test. It's the first time the Atlas will be coordinating with a newly rebuilt base and a fresh new MFE squadron. The test will consist of a simulation program ran simultaneously by all participants, aimed at defending the base from an enemy fleet, led by the BM-07 Thace. 

When they are in position, just above the clouds, Curtis opens comms with the base and the program is uploaded. It is brand new, made from scratch for the occasion and, until this very moment, known to just one person, its creator - Commander Adam Wright.

The weather is choppy. The Base scrambles the new MFE - Hermes fighters and Shiro thinks that the name is befitting of both the crafts and their commander, for where the Ares squadron is all speed and might, Hermes behaves more like a troupe of tricksters, appearing and disappearing, taking risky moves, making it hard for the Atlas, as an ally ship, to provide any support without jeopardising the mission. It doesn’t help that Adam served them one of his simulations from hell, with a side of extra poison knowing that Shiro would be at the helm.

By the time the Hermes squadron comes into the Atlas’ hangar to recharge and the MFE-Ares are scrambled, everyone in the bridge is sweating. That’s when ground control decides to open a channel directly to his console. On the screen, Adam graces him with a familiar shit-eating grin.

“Captain, Sir,” he salutes. “Having fun?”

“I’m sure _you_ are, Commander Wright…”

“Well, yes… but, you know, asking for a friend- will we be seeing your missus changing shape any time soon?”

And then it makes sense. It’s in the glint of Adam’s eyes, even more vivid when he doesn’t wear his glasses - Adam has been goading him into transforming the Atlas. Oh, but he’s not that easy. He feels the pull at the corner of his mouth, wolfish and full of fire.

“Make me.”

And they’re on. Adam cuts the communication and the mission panel seems to rearrange itself in front of his eyes. Alarms start blaring. Adam must have shifted the difficulty level up. For a while they just defend. Keith seems all too amused to play the part of the villain. They are cornered. Shiro bites his lip.

_Fine, you win._

“Atlas, prepare for transformation sequence.”

 

* * *

 

 

_Gorgeous._

Adam looks on in amazement at the colossus looming over the base. The weather itself seems to mould itself around the mecha, energy cracking like a thunderstorm, and a powerfully bright aura descends upon the island.

The battle goes on for a while. The newly recharged MFE-Hermes fighters join the battle against the virtual Galra strikers and the BM07-Thace. They look like flies around the giant robot. Adam regrets a bit not having seen much of Voltron, but this makes up for it tenfold. The Atlas is a magnificent machine and Takashi seems to have finally gotten the hang of it, judging by the fluid, graceful movements cutting across the sky. One by one, the virtual enemy fighters are eliminated, and the Blade of Marmora ship is cornered.

The senior commanders in the mezzanine nod in approval. The combined forces of the Atlas, the Hermes and the Ares squadrons have finally beaten the simulator and, thus, the exercise comes to an end. The ships begin to land. The base is large enough to house the Atlas, but it’s a more challenging landing than it is at the more spacious desert base. The mecha momentarily disappears to the higher layers of the atmosphere, to transform back into its ship form, and finally approaches, carefully but neatly. The MFE Hermes fighters are already back to their own hangars and the Thace has just finished its manoeuvre back to the spare hangar.

It’s a full house, and a well earned celebration will soon be upon them. Still fuelled by the adrenaline of the day, Adam forgets his reluctance and heads straight towards the Atlas. Once the gates open, the crew begins steadily pouring out, together with large cases of parts, machinery and other supplies. He waits until the crowd starts thinning and the bridge crew finally appears. Right at the back, a familiar grey head. And then he realises, as the ground clears before him, that Takashi does not walk alone.

He can’t help but to admire the way they fit together: a pair of opposites - dark and light - both so painfully attractive, tall and strong, faces hardened by battle, stern eyes and elegant poses. But there’s also an air of gentle complicity exuding from them, clear in the way they exchange words that no one else hears, heads tilted towards one another, but never quite touching.

“Adam!” Takashi calls.

And just like that, they are face to face.

“Captain Shirogane… Good job out there!” he greets, going for blasé.

“Your sims are wicked as ever.”

“I do my best…”

They clasp hands and shake, like old friends. It feels good, like pieces sliding back into place. He pats Takashi’s shoulder. They grin at each other.

The whole interaction is being observed by a pair of pale blue eyes. The man has been quiet so far, and now that he is given the opportunity, choses to slightly bow and offer his hand in greeting.

“Shiro,” another voice calls. “I have Kolivan on the line. Can you join us for a moment?”

“Sorry, catch you guys later.”

Adam and Curtis watch as Keith takes Shiro towards the Blade of Marmora vessel.

They are left alone - rescuer and rescued, a strange bond that Adam feels he should honour, but doesn’t know to what extent.

“How’s your pilot training going?”

The man winces. “I'm still rather terrible, Sir…”

“We’ll see about that some day... and don’t ’sir’ me, you saved my life. Let’s go to the mess. I heard there’s a special menu today. Do you fancy beef?”

“I’m a vegetarian...”

“Oh shame, the local meat is excellent. Anyway, we’ll surely find you some plants too. Come on...”

And so they walk to the crowded canteen, where everyone is gathered after the intense training session.

Adam loses sight of Curtis when he’s intercepted by Iverson and another Commander. He ends up eating much less and talking much more than he’d hoped. He spots Takashi with Keith and later with other crew members and higher officers. He doesn’t seem to have much of a chance to eat either, picking small pieces of something from a plate he’s been holding with his hovering hand.

As the canteen starts to empty, the survivors are slowly herded towards the exit.At the gate, Dos Santos is cramming people into taxis and giving instructions to the drivers, probably sending everyone to the one club in town that can possibly host this large a party. He makes a mental note to keep Keith at a safe distance from the guy, considering he’s the idiot who used the words “kick the bucket” for what happened to Kerberos crew. Or perhaps he should just let the kid teach him a lesson...

When his turn comes, he gets into the taxi with three of the MFE-Hermes pilots and spends the short trip mincing them on their mistakes during the exercise. Adam kind of loves his job sometimes. Naturally, as soon as they arrive, the kids respectfully disperse. He enters the club and looks for someone to start a chat with. He spots Veronica with the Altean blondie and the scary half Galra and joins them. A while later arrive Takashi, Keith and Curtis. The circle widens, drinks are ordered, beers and long drinks and rounds of shots. It’s not just the end of a successful exercise, but probably the first time some of these people are away from the desert since the war. The change of scenery seems to loosen everyone up a notch. It gets lively, then a bit rowdy. He keeps tabs on Takashi and his terribly low alcohol tolerance from the corner of his eye. For a while the man remains parked by the counter in the company of his blue eyed friend, both sipping on slow pints. It all goes downhill when someone brings in the jaeger bombs. He sees Curtis discretely decline his, while Takashi downs the one passed to him without a second thought.

The music is as terrible as you’d expect from a rural outpost with a history of American military presence. People start dancing regardless. A few officers take the opportunity to pull in some of the local girls. He only realizes he’s been idly swaying to the beat when a dash of light grey enters his field of vision. Takashi is making a beeline to where he is. He looks around. There’s no one else nearby that could possibly be the target except himself.

“Adam.”

Takashi has stepped well into his personal space. His breath could ignite a bush fire. His eyes are unfocused.

“You’re drunk.”

“You wanna dance.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re doing it. The thing with your hips.”

Shit. Alcohol always does this to him. It's like a genetic trigger. Adam wonders if his ancestors were all avid dancers. But that also means that Takashi's been watching him, and that can't be good.

“Takashi...”

“Just one. I know you want to...”

He gets physical. A hand on his waist, teasing.

“You are a terrible dancer and this is not gonna end well,” he tries to admonish, but Takashi puts up that damn puppy smile, rubs his thumb through Adam’s shirt, gently pulls him towards the crowd.

“Pleeeeease...”

_Ugh. Seriously._

“Ok, fine.”

And so they dance. Takashi is as clumsy as ever, made even worse by the booze. The music is ten years old, the place is too hot, too dark. He doesn’t want this. He’s ended things, and he firmly believes it was for the best. But this feeling is still etched on his body - the physical sensation of being this close, the warmth, the shape, the smell. It’s like a drug.

“Let’s get out of here,” Takashi whispers. He’s draped over Adam’s body, breath warm against the shell of his ear, damp skin burning with open need.

Over by the bar, Keith is glaring daggers at them, Veronica has her arm around someone’s shoulders and seems to be giving a drunken pep talk of sorts. They turn around just slightly. Adam sees dark brown skin and the hint of sad blue eyes and his heart drops. Suddenly he can’t stand the heat, the music, the smell of booze, the weight of Takashi’s body, his half lidded eyes and lopsided grin. He pushes back hard. Takashi stumbles into someone or other. Adam takes the chance to storm out the door, onto the chilly outdoor terrace.

By now, Keith will have ran to catch Takashi and will be helping him up and back to the group, probably buying him some water to help him sober up. They’ll bring him home later, where he will sleep and forget this ever happened. Adam stands outside in the cold misty darkness. If he walks to the town center there will surely be a cab somewhere. Ten minutes at most. he's in pretty good shape, so he'll make it. He takes a deep breath and starts walking.

“Adam, wait!”

And so the drama resumes. He turns around, Takashi lunges forward, stumbles, empties his stomach on a patch of grass. Thankfully, in that instant, a pair of headlights hits the curve. Adam flags the taxi while pulling Takashi from the floor. The old man looks at them with a mix of suspicion and disgust.

“Base das Lages, por favor”, he parrots, in his best imitation of Dos Santos’ raspy accent. The car starts to move. He lets his hand fall on Takashi’s leg and rubs it slowly. Takashi leans his head on Adam’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Adam... I ruined your night....”

“It’s ok, baby... It doesn't matter...”

 

* * *

 

The rows of prefabricated houses stretch along the outer limits of the base, grey and box shaped, military to the bone.

From where he stands on the narrow roadway, Curtis can see the first rays of daylight painting the sky. He double checks the email from the logistics team. There is no mistake: bungalow 5, rooming with Commander T. Shirogane.

From the outside, it’s not clear what the sleeping arrangements are - a twin room or two separate spaces. He really doesn’t want to walk in on what he thinks he will find inside the house. Maybe he can just forfeit sleep and go watch the sunrise somewhere. There’s a hill by the coast that he could hike. It looks easy enough.

He inhales the cool air of the dawn and decides to turn on his heel.

“Awake at this hour?”

The sudden voice makes him freeze in place. Behind him, a man stands by the door. His hair is mussed and his uniform is partially unbuttoned. His boots hang from the fingers of one hand while the other rubs his eyes.

“Adam?”

“A walk of shame if you’ve ever seen one. If you wanna sleep go ahead. I was just seeing myself out.”

“No, it’s fine. I was going to go see the sunrise...”

“Were you?”

It doesn’t really sound like a question. Adam still seems airy and soft from sleep, and quite different from his usual sharp self.

“Yeah.”

“Can I join you?”

Curtis wants to say no. Hanging out with Adam is the last thing he sees himself doing at the moment. But what of his impromptu plan? Maybe he should sleep after all. Forget about the night that wanes and tuck back the feelings that have been nagging him.

Adam closes the door of the bungalow and sits on the steps to put on his boots. Then, he stands and steps closer, right into Curtis’ personal space.

“Full disclosure,” he says, “nothing happened between me and Takashi. He puked his guts on my shoes, I brought him home. He’s still passed out on the couch, uniform and all. That jerk is too heavy for me to manhandle. You can go see for yourself.”

“What? No! It’s not like that!”

Adam chuckles. “Come on, I know where to get coffee. We both need it.”

True to his word, Adam brings him to a staff pantry with a fancy espresso machine. There’s a tin full of coffee beans that Adam grinds on the spot. The coffee is thick and bitter, served in tiny glass cups, but the smell is heavenly and, just as Adam said, exactly what he needed.

They bring their drinks to a large veranda overlooking the grass-clad caldera of an extinct volcano.

“My favourite sunrise spot.”

“It’s very peaceful.”

“Hmm.”

For a while they just sip on coffee and watch the gradual brightening of the hills. The mist is starting to lift, which means they might have a blue sky today.

Curtis finds himself really looking at Adam. The man puts on an energetic front, so it’s easy to overlook the war scars. He even seems to have styled his hair so as to conceal the burn marks Curtis is sure he’s seen, just above one of his eyes. His mind drifts back to the desert, that time, not so long ago, when he was alone and desperate, and out of the rubble he found a life, flickering ever so faintly, and decided to put his everything into saving that soul. It’s funny to realise how even after all the time that has passed, they are still connected - in a roundabout, kind of twisted way, sure - but in a way that allows them to be here, watching the sunrise together, in a world that is full of hope.

He has closed his eyes at some point. He didn’t sleep at all and it’s taking most of his energy just to stand there, feeling the cool breeze of the morning.Something grazes his cheek, very lightly. He pries his eyes open. Adam is standing closer now, hand still hovering just an inch from where he felt that touch a second ago. The rays of the rising sun colour his skin golden, his brown eyes are warm right before they flicker and close. Adam leans in very slowly, letting that hand rest on Curtis’ cheek in earnest. Their lips come together, almost like an afterthought. They stay like that for a moment. Then, Adam is pulling back and smiling, and going in again. It’s such a tender kiss he can only call it romantic. His mouth goes a bit slack and they slot themselves in each other’s empty spaces. It’s the most unexpected thing. He doesn’t know how to qualify it or what to do once it’s over, but while it lasts he just lets himself go, go, go.

And then it stops. Adam pulls back and his hands withdraw a notch, settling on Curtis’ shoulders.

He waits for words that don’t seem to come. He should give Adam an out but he can’t see this as a mistake that someone makes on a whim.

“There,” Adam finally says. “Now go and confess your love for my idiotic ex. He will never do it first.”

“Adam... Why?”

It doesn’t make any sense. Just a few hours ago, Adam’s _idiotic ex_ was barging out of a club to chase him, leaving everyone behind, including Curtis himself. Why would Adam send him on the futile endeavour of confessing his feelings for someone who doesn’t love him back?

“Because you both deserve to be happy. Now go. The sun is up and you don’t have much time.”

And with that, Adam physically pushes him out of the veranda and down the stairs, closing the door on him for good measure.With nowhere else to go, he slowly makes his way back to bungalow number 5, still quite unsure of what he’s about to do.

 

* * *

 

_Asymmetric-_

When did he stop looking himself in mirrors?

Some time after his first return to Earth, Takashi muses. Life in the Castle of Lions had been mostly hectic, but still there were times like this, of quiet introspection and unavoidable self deprecation.

If only the clone’s shoulder had been spared, like the one in Takashi’s original body, if only Allura had built him a full arm and not this hovering alien thing, if only Honerva didn’t feel the need to replicate all his scars, down to the punch across his nipple from a long healed piercing…

Alas, some days are just born gloomy.

Through the narrow bathroom window Takashi can see a spectre of sun rising behind the fog. He’s been told it’s always like this and it will be clear by mid morning, but not even the prospect of good weather can mend his mood. The shower freshened him up a little, but his head is still throbbing from the hangover and his neck is aching from sleeping fully clothed on the couch. He’s pretty sure Adam had been sleeping on the floor next to it, but he was gone when Takashi woke up.

It was a messy, messy night. He hadn’t intended for it to go that way, but there’s no sugar coating it: he screwed up. If he were to rationalise it, now that it’s over, he’d have to conclude it was mainly pettiness that led him to hit on his ex in front of his whole crew - and a certain person in particular.

It all began a few weeks prior, during the preparations for the joint exercise. While going around the flea market near the Garrison, he found someone selling self-published comics by aspiring artists. He’d already picked some sci-fi stuff for himself when a larger volume caught his eye. The art style was inspired by Japanese manga and the stories were all slice of life. He knows Curtis is a sucker for that kind of thing, so he bought it without a second thought and decided to drop it on the man’s desk before going into a meeting.

His self proclaimed guardian angel had been a constant in his life for the past year - working together on the bridge, sharing late night meals in the mess, running errands together when on land, picking each other’s brain when something bugged them, sparing, flight training (although Curtis is still too shy to ask for the one-on-one sessions that Takashi is oh-so-happy to volunteer)…

Can he really say that their relationship is simple? Or is Curtisjust as undemanding as he is forthcoming, and Takashi has taken him for granted?

Perhaps that is why it was such a shock to find those papers, neatly stacked on the clean desk, with a pen placed across the top:

_Royal Gurkha Rifles - Re-enlistment form_

Takashi doesn’t consider himself a needy man. He’s a team player, sure, and he enjoys the company of friends, but the idea of _needing_ a partner is unfathomable to him. That is why, after Adam left him, he didn’t seek anyone else. Besides the obvious fact that they were in the middle of a war, it didn’t feel right to jump onto another relationship without properly mourning the previous one.

But all that logic is at odds with what he feels right now.

He forces his eyes back to the mirror.

_Can someone still feel attracted to this wreck that I’ve become?_

“Shiro?”

His attention is abruptly brought to the man holding the door open. In a strange reflection of what he saw in the mirror, he realises with horror that Curtis is also naked, safe for a towel wrapped around his waist. A black  _necessaire_ hangs from his wrist by a strap. _Oh, he must want to shower…_

“I’m done, you can go ahead,” he says, reigning in his thoughts.

“Right… thanks.” Curtis advances into the narrow room and they shuffle past each other. “Uh… Shiro?”

He has to draw his eyes away from the sculpted dark torso, the thin coating of chest hair that he's just noticed for the first time. No. He must not-

“Are you by any chance free this morning?”

Curtis doesn’t stutter, but his voice is somewhat unsteady. Now that Takashi takes a proper look, the man looks very tired.

“You didn’t sleep,” he states, ignoring the question.

“I didn’t.”

“Then you should rest.”

“I saw a trail near the base. It seems to head towards the cliffs. Not long or steep, just a nice walk…” he rambles. Then his blue eyes catch Shiro’s, and he sees something intense there, burning just beneath the surface. “Would you like to join me?”

“A hike?”

“Yes. Well, a walk. As I said, it doesn’t seem particularly hard.”

It’s an odd proposal, but not a terrible one. He will have to bring the Atlas back home in a few hours, and fresh air works wonders sometimes.

“Ok, let’s do it,” he replies.

And so while Curtis takes his shower Takashi puts on sweat pants and a t-shirt and packs some water for the way. It’s still chill, but he doesn’t feel like bringing anything heavier. Curtis comes out of his room already dressed in a similar fashion.

The walk is indeed gentle. They exit through the side gate and head towards a small village. From there the trail cuts across some farm land before it starts to swell up towards the sea. Seagulls fly overhead. They can see cows grazing here and there. Takashi takes a photo to send Lance. He wonders how Kalteneker is doing now that it’s been relocated to Cuba.

It’s almost 9:30 when they finally reach the coastline. The trail ends at the edge of a cliff, high and indented by the ceaseless battering of Atlantic waves.

They stand side to side, watching the endless blue. Curtis closes his eyes and lets the wind batter his face. He is so handsome, a beauty so understated that it can go unnoticed if one lets himself be blinded by the world at large. Takashi’s heart clenches, and the sore spot he’s been nursing for the past weeks aches to the point that he has to let it out.

“You’re leaving” he says, his eyes never leaving the horizon. “I saw the forms on your desk a while ago.”

For a moment, Takashi wonders if Curtis heard him, because there's no movement or sound of acknowledgement. Then, there is just the man’s soft, sober voice.

“It’s true. I did print those forms. I was still undecided, though - or rather, torn between duty and what my heart wants.”

Takashi tries to ignore the past tense in that statement.

“And what is it… that your heart wants?”

The lean muscles under the white t-shirt shift and the arch of Curtis’ back undulates with a deep breath. The sound of his words travels faintly through the briny gusts that crash against them.

“To be with you.”

Takashi gasps and takes a step forward to face the man. His eyes are closed, short black hair thrown backwards by the wind, making him appear rougher, more angular, like the rocks they stand on.

“I was told to confess my feelings today…” he chuckles and opens his eyes. “So here it is… Shiro - no - _Takashi_ , my deepest wish is to always be with you.”

The sound of his first name, and the candid statement, sends a shudder up his spine. They are close but still not touching. Takashi feels thrilled for what Curtis has said, but he can’t ignore what he hasn’t.

“You will still leave me, though…”

“Yes.”

Curtis swivels slightly so as to face Takashi, and catches his left hand, cradling it in both of his, like one would hold baby bird.

“I saw my comrades die in the desert. They were peers but also teachers, mentors... family. When I joined them I was just a delinquent, cruising through life without a purpose. They brought me up, taught me, protected me. It’s thanks to them that I somehow got out of that desert alive. I don’t want to fight any more wars, but I can’t move forward until I’ve offered something in return. And so I’ve decided to join a rescue unit. That’s what I was training for when the invasion hit. I will finish that training and stay with them for a while. A few months, a few years… I’m not sure.”

“I understand. I respect your choice… and I’m sorry for being a possessive ass.”

He shakes his head and smiles a lovely bittersweet smile.

“It’s ok. Maybe we should have had this conversation earlier, but I just didn’t know how to bring it up… I still don’t know how to say this, but I guess I’ll just try my luck… Takashi, for a little while… will you wait for me?”

The hold on Takashi’s hand dissipates. Curtis stands open and idle like a leaf. The wind could blow him away and the world would not know what an amazing human being it just lost… And the same goes for Takashi - he doesn't want to realise too late that he's lost someone like that forever. So he finally finds his answer.

His hands cup Curtis’ jaw and his lips draw near. They taste sea and wild shrubs in a bed of soft bliss. He melts into the embrace that closes around him in return.

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Ok then."

And, again, they kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Trivia: Lages is a real town in the Azores’ Terceira island. There's a US air base there, established during WWII, which is currently being phased out. In one of the Voltron episodes (don’t ask me which one!) there was a map showing the other GG bases and one seemed to coincide with the mid-Atlantic location of Lages, so the idea came from there.  
> I have a (smutty, poly) epilogue/side story thought out, but I don't really have time to write it at the moment. Let me know if that's something you would read and I'll put it in the to-do list ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Hope you've enjoyed this little idea I had.  
> Please hit me up if you are/know any Gurkha soldiers and would like to correct/suggest something. As with any real life people/institutions I depict, I'd hate to offend anyone and I'll be happy to tweak any inconsistencies.  
> As always, any other comments are also welcome - EXCEPT attacks, hate, vulgarity or any other nasty stuff. I'm leaving the comment box open, so please be kind!  
> I tagged two conflicting ships. If knowing who's the endgame is a dealbreaker for you, please let me know in the comments and I'll tell you (without spoiling everyone else).  
> Cheers and thanks for reading!


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